little ball of fur.

Almost 3 months ago I went to a shelter in Atlanta and adopted a little 22 pound ball of black and white fur but y'all already knew that. 

A sick ball of fur makes itself a pillow throne.

I brought that ball of fur back to my parents house. It was a shy, timid little ball of fur, unsure of its new surroundings. Then I loaded it and myself in the car and drove it up to Maryland. It was even more unsure of its surroundings. The stairs terrified the ball of fur. The elevator was the stuff of nightmares, the kind that flatten you to the ground. 

Slowly the ball of fur began to grow less timid and settle into its surroundings. Things were looking up for me and the ball of fur. 

Then it started acting...off. Being fairly new to the world of ball of fur ownership I may have slightly overreacted and convinced myself that my geriatric ball of fur was going to meet her end this weekend. Oh yeah--that ball of fur I picked up is 10 years old. 

So I rushed it to the vet in tears. It turns out the ball of fur had slightly hurt its neck. I felt foolish. Oh it also had arthritis pretty badly in one hip. And the thing on its side the shelter told me was inflammatory tissue was actually a fatty tumor. 

Then a week later the ball of fur blew out its knee, completely tearing its CCL and medial meniscus. Surgery followed as did follow up visits every few days to remove staples and check progress. 

A few weeks later the ball of fur developed severe separation anxiety. Not even a week after that it was diagnosed with colitis. 

Then on Monday night the ball of fur started making these weird noise, kind of like a train. I assumed it was because the ball of fur had a piece of dried up hamburger stuck in its throat. Earlier that same evening the ball of fur had found what I thought was a large bark chip in a flowerbed near the apartment complex grills. It turns out that it had actually located a dried up old hamburger. When I tried to take it away--after all God knows how long it had been there or if it was even okay for balls of fur to eat--the ball of fur flattened itself to the ground and closed its jaws like a steel trap. A brief struggle ensued, the result of which was me breaking off the pieces sticking out of its mouth and flinging them as far away as possible and trying to snag the burger when the ball of fur opened its mouth to chew. 

I didn't worry about it too much; after all, the ball of fur was eating and drinking normally. If it wasn't the burger stuck in her throat maybe it was the pill I'd had to force feed the hard way since the ball of fur is shockingly good at uncovering pills in anything I encase them in (and yes that includes pill pockets). This is a problem when your ball of fur requires a lot of pills for its extensive ailments. Don't tell the ball of fur but I think I've stumbled on a way of getting pills in her without her knowing it. Shhh.

By Friday the ball of fur wasn't making noise like a train chugging down the tracks nearly as often or loudly. I thought it was almost over and the ball of fur was soon to return to normal. 

But then around 1 am this morning the ball of fur started its train noises again at full volume. And it continued to make them every 15-20 minutes until around 8 am. Then it started only making them every 20-30 minutes. 

This was disconcerting. 

That being said I really did not want to take the ball of fur to the vet again. It had been 10 days since our last vet visit (to start a different anti-anxiety medicine because the old one wasn't working anymore). I really wanted to go a full two weeks without visiting the vet. 

But then I realized that that was the stupidest reason for not calling the vet in the history of reasons for not calling the vet. So I called the vet and told them what was going on. They said they were super busy but based on my description of her condition they thought it was best to work her in this afternoon.

Two hours later we were in the waiting room at the vet's. Again. I went through everything with the tech. He checked her vitals and went to get the vet. The vet walked in and shook his head and said I am not even going to say anything. I know, I said. All parties laughed. 

Then as he examined the ball of fur he said you sure know how to pick healthy dogs. Everyone laughed again. 

It turns out the ball of fur most likely has an upper respiratory infection. So he gave me an antibiotic and hydrocodone to stop the train noises (which it turns out was a cough) and assured me she'd be right as rain in a few days and completely safe to be around other dogs by Monday.

And so the ball of fur and I left the vets office, antibiotics in hand and hydrocodone script ready to be filled at Walgreens. 

The ball of fur snarfed down its food, new pills and all. Since then it has not once made a train-like sound at me. 

I really hope that continues.

But you know what I hope for even more? 

That one day the ball of fur will get better and that one day it won't require weekly vet visits for new ailments. Instead, the ball of fur will joyously go through its days, living a happy healthy life. 

Until then, tune in weekly for the latest ailment.